


Admiring The View

by outlawfantasies



Category: Red Dead Redemption (Video Games)
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, F/M, I'll tell you who I imagine at the end..., Mary-Beth might be sleeping with an OC, Masturbation, Mildly Dubious Consent, Mysterious Male Lover, Nipple Play, Random Encounters, Spanking, Vaginal Fingering, Vaginal Sex, okay so uh, or any male in camp you desire because I haven't named him.
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-18
Updated: 2019-05-18
Packaged: 2020-03-07 07:06:12
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,700
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18868213
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/outlawfantasies/pseuds/outlawfantasies
Summary: Mary-Beth felt miserable. Susan Grimshaw had slapped her, Arthur Morgan had rejected her offer to dance, and Dutch Van der Linde was a creep. Mary-Beth figured no one would notice her slip away from camp for half an hour. The sun had not long set, and the way the lake looked was beautiful. Mary-Beth already felt more relaxed as she lit the match on a nearby rock, lighting up her cigarette. The smell and taste were just as bitter as she felt about the events of today; she wasn’t so sure why it brought her so much comfort.****Tagged as dubious consent, as Mary-Beth lets a mystery man in camp do whatever he pleases to her body after a few drinks.





	Admiring The View

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by the story 'Lady of the Lake' by BabiesAteMyDingo, where Arthur Morgan has a surprise visitor late at night & doesn't mind as much as he should.

Clemens Point was a wonderful place to camp, but tensions within the group were running high. Mary-Beth could see it; Susan was more stressed than usual and the older woman took it out on the group. She tried her hardest not to call her on it or be too rude, and she had made more of an effort with her chores to alleviate the stress from Susan. Others such as Karen had done little to do the same, and Mary-Beth found herself with a lot of free time in the day. That time was spent reading, usually. She had found a nice spot behind a wagon that was out of view from most of the camp, overlooking Flat Iron Lake. Now, the most of her problems weren’t Susan’s nagging, it was Dutch’s advances on her as she attempted to relax.

 

At first, Mary-Beth didn’t think much of Dutch standing near her, talking down to her politely with a smile. They usually spoke about books they had both read, or Dutch asked her about whatever romance she was reading, but as time went on Mary-Beth was growing less fond of Dutch’s talking. He stood almost directly in front of her and looked down, his smile holding something other can politeness and his eyes were strange, there was a look behind them that she couldn’t quite identify. The way he spoke to her, his words slightly drawled out and his tone slightly erotic as he said things about how well she had grown up -- how she had grown into quite a young lady.

 

Today, Mary-Beth had done her best to drag out her chores and busy herself away from Dutch. She had put down a book last night, she was on the very last chapter of the terrible romance affair of a woman and her husband’s brother, and she was quite _desperate_ to know the ending. The ending itself was predictable, Mary-Beth knew that, but she couldn’t help the enjoyment that the novels gave her. She had already washed most of the clothes given to her by the camp’s inhabitants, surely she could take a break for twenty minutes before she washed her own… That is exactly what she chose to do, abandoning the chore briefly and setting herself down nearby with the good in her excited hands, eager as she opened up the book to the sixth and final chapter.

 

_In their new home, nestled deep in the mountains, Cassandra couldn’t contain her arousal. It had been weeks since Jeremiah had laid his strong hands on her delicate body. His hair, the color of hay, was unkempt in opposed to his typical well-groomed style. He had not long woken up and sought out a cup of coffee, and Cassandra felt like marching straight over to him and ripping away the union suit that outlined his half-erect member. She wanted her lover to take her, right here and right now, atop of the kitchen table. A deep primal instinct that she had never felt before took over quite suddenly and Cassandra pulled her nightgown--_

 

The book was all but _torn_ from Mary-Beth’s hands and snapped shut, and the wide-eyed woman looked up when she recognised the skirt of Susan Grimshaw. The older woman was furious, her face red even through her foundation and Mary-Beth knew that, despite her recent efforts, she had made a mistake by not finishing the chore first. If looks alone could kill, Mary-Beth would be a corpse.

 

“Miss Grimshaw, I--” Mary-Beth started, wanting to explain that she had merely taken a break from the chore that she had been doing for the past hour and a half, but Susan wasn’t keen on listening to her excused regardless of how innocent they were.

 

“I don’t care!” Susan snapped at her, and Mary-Beth shut her mouth quickly. “You know, MIss Gaskill, I’ve killed girls for betraying us and I’ve done so _happily._ ” She stated, her tone sharp like a knife and Mary-Beth was confused, her eyebrows knitting together as she looked up at the older woman.

 

“Is reading betrayal in your world, Miss Grimshaw?” She questioned, a frown set on her lips as the point of the statement was lost on Mary-Beth. Susan scoffed, rolling her eyes at the question.

 

“Not reading, Miss,” Susan began to correct her, leaning down slightly and almost spitting in her face as she spoke. “ _Idleness._ ” She continued. “Idleness is betrayal, because it means that I work so that you don’t have to! That’s not right, is it?” Susan’s tone grew much harsher, the extent of her anger showing and Mary-Beth wished she could disappear into thin air, much like how Cassandra and Jeremiah had done to escape their lives. Mary-Beth stumbled to her feet quickly as Susan held up the book, marching toward the small metal tub that Mary-Beth was supposed to be washing the clothes in.

 

“I guess it isn’t fair, Miss, I’m sorry!” Mary-Beth apologised to Susan because she feared the fate of her book, and she was right to do so as Susan threw the trashy novel into the luke-warm water of the tub. A gasp escaped Mary-Beth’s lips, and Susan turned around quite quickly and slapped the look of shock from Mary-Beth’s face, her palm connecting with the younger woman’s cheek with a sound _smack_.

 

“Do some work, Miss! This is not a _holiday camp_!” Susan shouted, invading Mary-Beth’s personal space before pushing the girl in the direction of the tub. Without a further word, Mary-Beth dropped to her knees and pulled the soggy book from the water, but quickly dropped it on the grass as Susan yet again shouted at her to work. Once Mary-Beth was scrubbing away at the clothes, Susan seemed satisfied and walked away, growling something cruel about Mary-Beth to Arthur as she passed by him. Mary-Beth had never felt so embarrassed in her life, and she didn’t care check if her book was salvageable until she had finished the chore in fear that Susan would come back for another round of humiliation.

 

*

 

Later that night, Mary-Beth felt miserable. She had covered the red mark on her cheek with more makeup than before and nursed her pride with a bottle of beer. There was _another_ party tonight, something about a big score that the men had pulled in that deserved some celebration. Any excuse for a party, Mary-Beth had figured. Though she typically avoided Dutch because of his poor behaviour, a part of her wished that the older man had been around when Susan was angry. Perhaps he would have stopped the older woman before there was a mark on Mary-Beth’s cheek, she wondered. Though, at the same time, the woman didn’t quite feel like being indebted to Dutch any further than she currently was despite the man’s claims that no one was obligated to stay here.

 

When the music finally started, Mary-Beth was hoping to take her mind off of the embarrassing ordeal. She was already one bottle deep into the evening and a quarter through her second, it filled her with some confidence as she stood near Dutch’s tent. The leader was already dancing with Molly O’Shea, though she had noticed his wandering eye and prayed that Molly didn’t notice it. The last thing she wanted to hear was the woman screaming at Dutch about his wandering eye and naming her once again in her ranting. She also couldn’t stand the thought of Molly confronting her again, incorrectly under the impression that Mary-Beth wanted the attention she received from the man.

 

“Arthur!” Mary-Beth called out to the man as he passed by Dutch’s tent. Clearly, Arthur was heading to his own cot by the ammunition wagon. When he looked at her, pausing in his tracks to face her, Mary-Beth could tell that he had already had a few drinks. That might work in her favour, she figured, he might be more relaxed and in a better mood than he had been earlier. “Will you dance with me, Arthur?” She questioned, a smile on her pink lips, and for a moment Arthur seemed to consider it -- it filled her with hope.

 

“Ain’t you got clothes to wash?” Arthur drawled, turning away from her before he could see the look on her face and continued toward his cot. What in the world? That felt so out of character for Arthur; he was always so nice to her, or just _polite_ if his mood wasn’t great. Perhaps the alcohol in his system made him meaner, not more relaxed, and Mary-Beth sighed. Today clearly wasn’t her day, she gave up on the idea of dancing tonight, no longer in the mood. She walked past John’s tent, hearing the cries of Karen coming from inside, and figured now was as good a time as any to steal a cigarette and match from Karen’s stash. It had been a while since her last cigarette, though it had also been a while since she had felt this stressed.

 

Glancing around her, Mary-Beth figured no one would notice her slip away from camp for half an hour. Though, she was doubtful, given how her luck had been running today. She doubted that Susan would chase her down during a party, or that Dutch would follow her while Molly had him in her clutches. She passed Arthur’s cot, seeing the man sat down with his gaze quite intensely on a letter, and he didn’t notice as she wandered into the trees. There weren’t many animals around at this hour, at least not that Mary-Beth noticed, especially as she spotted the shoreline. The sun had not long set, and the way the lake looked was beautiful. Mary-Beth already felt more relaxed as she lit the match on a nearby rock, lighting up her cigarette. The smell and taste were just as bitter as she felt about the events of today; she wasn’t so sure why it brought her so much _comfort_.

 

Her mind wandered to much earlier in the day; to the book that Susan had ruined. Mary-beth couldn’t read the rest of it, the pages destroyed by the water. She knew that the story was predictable, but the scene she had been ready to read made her feel excitement even hours later. ' _Cassandra lifting her nightgown up over her head_ ,' Mary-Beth envisioned, closing her eyes; ' _and she dropped the sheer garment to the ground as she marched toward Jeremiah with no shame. Her man looked back at his lover as she stood proudly, his eyes gazing at her sex with an inhuman hunger as his tongue ran over his lips_.'

 

Mary-Beth glanced around herself one more time, the music in the distance masking any noises around her and there was no one nearby. The woman unbuttoned her pale pink shirt some, enough to expose her breasts to the cool air of the night through her own semi-sheer camisole, before she sat down on the grass with her back against a tree, a beautiful view of the lake in front of her as she hitched up her skirt and petticoat. This felt incredibly risky, but Mary-Beth adored the thrill of potentially being watched from the shadows; a soft giggle escaped her lips as she dug her feet into the ground, lifting her bottom from the ground as her fingers slipped into the hem of her drawers, sliding the silky garment to her ankles.

 

It had been a long time since she had last been alone with enough privacy to touch herself. There was so much tension to be relieved, the woman picked up her cigarette again to take a drag as her other hand moved between her thighs, her knuckles brushing against the inside of her knee on the way. A soft gasp escaped her lips as she brushed the tips of her fingers against her folds, pressing against them lightly as she realised how wet she was. She was feeling quite neglected; not for long, she smirked.

 

The nighttime air wasn’t just Mary-Beth’s to enjoy; the woman was so lost in herself that she didn’t hear the slow footsteps approaching; they were heavy and clearly belonged to a man, a man who had heard the breathy giggle and came quietly to investigate; he knew what Mary-Beth was doing the moment he saw her outline. The woman was none the wiser, of course, unaware that her fantasy of putting on a show was a reality for her. The woman flicked her cigarette to the side when she was one with it, the butt landing on the damp shore, and her fingers traced down her chest between her breasts, tugging open the soft buttons on her camisole, then moving to the side to gently pinch a hard nipple.

 

Another whine escaped into the nighttime breeze and her head rolled back, leaning against the tree as her fingers dived deep into her snatch, thighs trembling and soft wet sounds echoing in the forest. Perhaps Mary-Beth _wanted him to catch her_? She had to have known, he always came around this way when it was his turn to protect the camp at night. He took a few steps forward, slow so that he wouldn’t interrupt her until he knelt down slightly behind her, the tree she was leaning against thin, and his gloved hand moved around the tree to cover her mouth as she moaned again.

 

Mary-Beth’s heart jumped right out of her chest as the hand covered her mouth, and her body froze in place like a statue; if statues had trembling thighs, that is. She always thought that if she found herself in a situation like this, she would scream and run or fight as best she could; but Mary-Beth found herself acting quite the opposite. Who was with her? The second hand moved some of her hair from her neck, and Mary-Beth couldn’t make out the colour of the man’s hair as his rough lips came into contact with her skin; he was teasing her. A hand moving from her mouth as she moaned softly; his hands moved to her shirt to unbutton the rest of her shirt, tugging the shirt from the waist of her skirt and down her arms. Mary-Beth found that she wasn’t as opposed to this as she should be; and her mystery lover felt like something from an erotic novel.

 

“Who are you?” She questioned softly, and his teeth sunk into her neck, causing her to whimper; he didn’t answer her. She could turn her head and see for herself, but the man wasn’t compliant; his hand quite quickly moved to her jaw and stopped her. She felt her heart beating faster from anticipation, fooling around with a stranger was almost certainly dangerous and that sent a thrill through her body more intense than any fantasy. Besides… It was clearly someone from camp who had a beard, which didn’t narrow it down at all.

 

The man pulled her camisole; popping the buttons and then tugging the strap down her arms. Mary-Beth was naked from the waist up and she wasn’t entirely sure if the man could see her. Regardless, the man’s hands went to her skirt next, fumbling along her waistline for a button or clip that would loosen the skirt -- he was in luck as Mary-Beth did it for him, but he wouldn’t allow her to stand just let as the fabric fell loosely around her legs. Instead, the man fumbled around his own pockets for something, pulling a bandana with the intention of blindfolding the woman. It made her nervous as he held up the fabric, folded with the clear intention of covering the upper half of her face instead of the intended lower. Once he had secured it, he finally prompted her to stand, pushing down her skirt and petticoats; the woman stepped out of the puddle of fabric. The man knelt down to untangle her drawers from her ankles, leaving her in just her homestead boots.

 

There was an absence of hands on her body, and the man gathered her skirt up. He draped it over his arm like a washcloth then finally took her hand; guiding her closer to the shoreline. Mary-Beth was anxious; her safety in this man’s hands as she wanted to see where he took the the evening. He helped her down the little decline without tripping and made her stand still as he laid her skirt down in the damp mud; it was more for her than for himself, he didn’t mind ruining his trousers for this. He knelt down before Mary-Beth, he knees sinking into the mud, and nudged her legs apart some more; the images of Cassandra and Jeremiah filled her mind once more, the feeling rushing south immediately, and Mary-Beth let out a quivering moan as the flat of the man’s tongue ran over her folds; without so much as a word or grunt in warning. He lapped at her with the same hunger that Mary-Beth had envisioned with Jeremiah; _feasting on her like she was his last meal._

 

One arm hooked under her knee slowly, giving her time to prepare as he moved it over his shoulder, gloved hands coming to rest on the woman’s hips as his tongue delved between into her cunt, stretched slightly by her own dainty fingers, and then proceeded to lap at her like he needed her to live. The way his tongue danced between her labia and the tip flicked against her clit only twice, the noises the woman made her music to his ears; Mary-Beth went as far as to grind gently on his tongue, any shame leaving her body while she felt as if Cassandra was inhabiting her. As she whispered her encouragements, the stranger’s lips latched onto her clit, tongue teasing her sensitive pearl exclusively as a gloved hand moved down to her slit, slipping two thick fingers inside with ease and Mary-Beth almost squealed loudly, her hand covering her mouth to avoid unwanted attention.

 

Mary-Beth was ready for him, and the man pulled away from her slowly, not wanting the woman to topple over into the mud. He shuffled back and guided her down, watching as her nose scrunched up when her hand came into contact with the mud. He had two hands on her asscheeks, not wanting that part of her to be dirty if he was to have his fun with her. He laid her down, her body safe from the dirt thanks to the skirt; the man seemed content with the view, especially as he spread her legs. His hands wrapped around her ankles over her boots, slowly bending her legs back until the touched her chest. Mary-Beth’s hands moved around to hold her legs back, and the man unbuttoned her pants to pull out his cock. He was hard already, and moved the mushroomed tip over her wet slit. The woman gasped at the contact, the head alone felt _thick_ and she waited in anticipation for him to enter her.

 

The man thought about the risks, he didn’t want to knock up the woman. He had a plan, however, and wasted little time moving the tip of his cock to her entrance; the gasp that escaped Mary-Beth as he pushed his hips forward was like music. She felt his hands touch her ankles again, using them like handles as he thrust deeper into her with drawn out movements, slow and steady. He wanted to enjoy the woman’s soaked core as much as he could, bending her body in ways she didn’t know she was capable. Her mysterious lover was bent over her now; she could feel his breath on her chest as he worked himself into her; she fit him like a dream. He wasn’t a long man, but his shaft was thicker than her two fingers and that was enough for her. Her breath was shaky as she felt his groin press against hers; his cock as deep as it could go, and his balls rested against her asscheeks as he gave her a moment to get used to his size.

 

Then the man pulled back, his cock slowly pulling out of her snatch until just the tip was inside of her. Then his hips snapped suddenly, thrusting deep again and again like a machine. With every thrust, Mary-Beth let out a moan of pure bliss and the man pushed her ankles back further; his body moving forward as he did so. He spread her legs far apart and Mary-Beth didn’t know she could move this way. Her ass was high off of the ground and his thrusts only moved her back further, and her ankles ended up pinned over her head. Her boots were likely covered in dirt, and Mary-Beth felt like he was folding her almost in half as he piledrived her cunt. He groaned, slightly more vocal now as he used her for his own pleasure.

 

She felt pressure on her shoulders as the man moved her into his desired position; his hands on her ankles weren’t necessary anymore as he looked down at her. Nirvana was painted on her face; her pink lips were open wide as she whimpered and moaned. Perhaps if he was lucky she could suck his cock clean when he was finished with her. Her breasts obeyed gravity and a gloved hand briefly played with them; his fingers quite rough as he pinched and twisted her nipples, only adding to the euphoria. The man twisted suddenly, one booted foot resting above her head and partly on her hair, the other where her ass _should_ be resting. The man only stopped for a second, enough to confuse her before he slammed deep into her again and resumed wetting his cock.

 

One hand moved to cup her mound, a thumb brushing over her clit in circles as he fucked her; if she was opposed to his other hand resting on her ass, she didn’t say anything. His fingers moved between her soft asscheeks, spreading them and licking his lips as he laid eyes on her asshole. He assumed that she was a virgin in that sense, and he brought his thumb to his lips and dampened his thumb. He moved his hand back down gently rubbed his thumb over her hole, gentle with her as her rim tensed. His other thumb pressed down on her clit, making the woman cry out in bliss as his other thumb pushed pass the ring of muscles. He had every intention of taking Mary-Beth in a way she had never been before; a fantasy he had spent countless nights awake in his cot thinking about.

 

His hips slowed only slightly as he teased her hole, prepping her as she wiggled her body; she did all the work for him, working his thumb deeper into her tight asshole while also grinding her clit on his other thumb. Her thighs trembled and her moans were barely suppressed as his cock rubbed against the woman’s g-spot. The man leaned down, aiming for her ass as he spat onto the puckered hole. Rather than push his thumb back in, the lover replaced it with two fingers, slick in spit as he stretched out her hole. His fingers curled and Mary-Beth whined, both holes clenching as the woman neared her release. A whisper that she was going to cum prompted the man to pull out of her with a wet popping noise that echoed slightly, and he removed his fingers from her ass and repositioned himself; he wasted no time pushing the tip against her asshole, drawing a gasp from her as he stretched her tight hole open using spit and her own slick for lube.

 

“F-Fuck…” She groaned, and he could see how her face was contorting as she adjusted to the new intrusion on her body. He continued to rub her clit, making sure she felt somewhat good as he sunk deeper into her hole, it was almost _too tight_ but he was determined to make it fit. He stopped when half of his cock was in her rear, pulling back until it was just the tip then driving himself down further into her. She cried out from a mix of discomfort and delight; the ache of him stretching her felt so wrong but so right. He man didn’t stop the rhythm he found, pushing a little deeper every time until eventually he couldn’t push any further. Her body spasmed and clenched the man’s cock as he started to fuck her hole, and one hand rested on her ass while the other spanked her pussy. The slaps weren’t hard and directed mostly at her clit, the wet noises barely audible over Mary-Beth’s groaning.

 

Her pitch only got higher as his fingers dived back into her twat deep, curling expertly to find and tease her g-spot as he used her ass for his own pleasure. Mary-Beth had never felt so _used_ in such a perfect way; and she felt her orgasm approaching quickly. The fire built up in her stomach until it was just too much to take; the floodgates opened and her hand clamping over her own mouth as she screamed into her palm. The man let out a long groan, his movement slowing as both orifices tightened; clamping both his cock and his fingers as she basked in her release. It didn’t go unnoticed when the woman squirted, the rush of juices splashing on her sleeve and dripping down her torso; he watched with a smug grin knowing it was because of him.

 

“Good girl,” He spoke softly, and Mary-Beth could barely hear him over the sound of blood rushing in her ears. She couldn’t determine his voice or tell just who was praising her, it filled her with a mild anger that she couldn’t figure out who was giving her the fuck of a lifetime. Instead of speaking again, the man’s pace became faster and he grew rougher with his thrusts, making the woman whimper and groan as he abused her hole. It didn’t take long for him to spill his seed deep inside of her asshole with a drawn out groan. He held himself there as he recovered, panting and gripping her body like his life depended on it. Mary-Beth was half tempted to pull the bandana from over her eyes and hope to see the face of the man, but she resisted. It was the mystery that turned her on so much; clearly he didn’t want her to know either.

 

The stranger pulled out of her ass slowly, taking his time and watching as his cum leaked from the red ring. He had done so well to taint the woman, to tame her for the night and make her his. He stepped back, letting down of her body as he pulled a handkerchief that had been stuffed into his other pocket, using the rag to wipe his cock clean of her slick and blood. Mary-Beth could barely move, still folded over with her two gaping holes on display. He wished that he had his camera with him, and he memorised the image to get off to later on. He wondered if she was truly oblivious? If she would actually trudge back to camp with muddy clothes, thoroughly fucked and looking around wondering which man had rendered her immobile. He wondered what he would do tomorrow, if anything, if she could even move from her bedroll as his cum leaked from her.

 

He tucked his cock back into his trousers as Mary-Beth slowly moved her legs, laying on her back on top of her skirt. She was trying to sit up, and he felt bad as she struggled to do so. He needed the bandana back anyway, so carefully the man grabbed her arms and helped her rest on her sore ass; the abashed look on her face was worth everything he had done to her tonight. He walked behind her and loosened the bandana; kissing her behind her ear as he made his exit. Mary-Beth’s eyes adjusted to the light, peering over the lake at the view as her lover vanished into the trees; what had she done?

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading... In my mind, Micah Bell is the person fucking Mary-Beth. I'm curious; who did you imagine?


End file.
